so-expect-a-thing-sometime-later-this-week

anonymous asked:

Hello! I love your Gaston stories. I was wondering if you'd do one where Gaston ends up getting cursed like the Beast did (or instead of the Beast) and the reader is his Belle? :)

Pairing: Gaston x Reader
Fandom: Disney ; Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Warnings: /

A/N: I’m so glad you enjoy my Gaston stories, darling! I hope you enjoy your request as well <33

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You were on your way to the neighbor village, trying to get some special fabric for your mother’s birthday next week. The journey with the horse was supposed to only take you an hour or so, but you had to ride through the woods and got lost about thirty minutes ago, still trying to find your way back to the path that would lead your way.

Or any path for that matter.

“Oh, Marié, I think we’re utterly lost,” you petted the head of your horse.

It would still be quite some time till darkness would set in though, so at least you didn’t have to worry about that for now.

You got off your horse and tied her reins to a nearby tree.

“Alright. Let’s see where we are,” you looked up a tree that should’ve been high enough for you to see which way to go.

You started your climb, as careful as possible, which was a little hard with a long dress, but you somehow managed.

You found your way to the crown of the tree that was overlooking the entire forest. With that, you now knew where to go. A proud smile set on your lips that quickly disappeared when you heard Marié neighing. Loudly at that. She was your horse since she was a foal, so at this point, you knew what sounds she made when she felt certain things. Right now, she felt fear.

“Marié?” you began your climb back down, a little rushed maybe, which was a bad idea, since you missed a branch and fell down. Only a few feet, but enough to hurt yourself.

Your horse was still there, at least that was a relief.

“Are you alright?” a voice asked. A deep voice.

Keep reading

Love’s Not a Competition, But I Won

Merlin was ten years old when he saw Arthur Pendragon for the first time. He ended up with a bloody nose, a pink slip, and a new best friend. The bullies on the playground didn’t stand a chance.

He was thirteen the first time he asked Arthur to marry him. He ended up with a bloody nose, a pink slip, and a very angry mother.

It had taken him a whole week to talk to Arthur again. He’d only been joking, after all. Thirteen year olds didn’t’ get married. That was ludicrous. Arthur had picked on him and Merlin had retaliated. Leon called them an old married couple and one thing led to another and Merlin made his first proposal at thirteen.

He hadn’t expected for Arthur to walk up to him with red cheeks and scruffed up knuckles with an apology on his tongue a week later.

“Yeah, well, what’s wrong with me anyway?” Merlin remembered the two of them giggling over Gwaine late at night, and discussing Freya and Gwen and all the pretty people. Was it just him that Arthur didn’t want?

“Don’t be dense, Merlin. You’re my best friend.” Arthur scowled.

“Yeah, well, so? Best friends get married sometimes.” Merlin scowled back.

Arthur looked around the room and lowered his voice. “Look, if I say I’ll marry you will you stop being mad at me?”

“I wasn’t seriously asking you anyway.” Merlin slouched in his seat. “But yeah, I’ll stop being mad at you.”

Arthur grinned. “Fine. I’ll marry you if you beat me in three competitions before we get out of high school.”

Merlin’s mouth gaped. “We’re not even in high school yet, Arthur.”

“I want to give you a fighting chance, Merlin.”

“A fighting chance to marry you?” Merlin gave a forced laugh. “Careful, Pendragon, I might think you want me to win.”

The first time Merlin beat Arthur, it wasn’t hard.

Merlin had long legs and lean muscles and he was built for running. He knew how to sprint like a champ and he spent six months training up in secret to be better than Arthur. Which was pretty difficult since Uther liked to hire personal trainers and make Arthur practice six days a week for every sport he did.

He shouted “One down!” at Arthur when he crossed the finish line. Arthur only furrowed his brow and looked confused. But Merlin knew.

Sometimes what held Merlin back was simply finding a way to compete against Arthur.

Football was particularly difficult. Arthur loved it like no other and Merlin was sure that he actually enjoyed his father’s four hour long practice sessions. Luckily for Merlin, Uther hated him. So he wasn’t allowed on the Knights. Which meant he was entirely and totally free to go try out for the rival Dragons.

That game was intense. It was a tie, and then another tie, and then it was Arthur and Merlin against each other. Merlin thought it was perfect until he saw the cloudy red anger on Arthur’s face.

After the game, Merlin said a “One more to go!” but Arthur just stomped past him.

He didn’t talk to him for a few days, but Merlin managed to get him to come around with an armful of movies and a bag full of junk food and the rousing temptation of “Come on, you know Uther will hate it.”

And that’s how they ended up spending a weekend gorging on burgers and chips and fried pastries and watching really crappy cop dramas and a single romantic comedy. Merlin insisted that The Proposal was a cinematic masterpiece. Arthur only half-heartedly disagreed.

The third time Merlin beat Arthur, he wasn’t sure he could do it.

He had tried, unsuccessfully, to get Arthur to play him in some less competitive games. He was sure that if he could beat him at scrabble or something he could get a clear win and call it done. It was senior year and things were getting a bit desperate and try as he might, he hadn’t beat Arthur in anything since that football game.

But then, last semester, Merlin had his chance.

Arthur had entered into the senior art competition.

Merlin hadn’t even known Arthur liked art. If he’d made a habit of any artistic habits, he’d hidden them well. But Merlin knew that Arthur would never enter into a competition he didn’t think he’d win.

So Merlin decided to pull out all the stops. He couldn’t learn many techniques in the few weeks it would take. However, if he just practice drawing one picture over and over and over again, he could draw that one picture really well.

People started giving him weird looks when they saw his sketchbook. Reds and golds and silvers were stacked side by side in his pencil case, several of them worn down to nubs each week.

When it came time to enter in the piece for the competition, he had maybe a dozen copies, but he had only one perfect work.

It was the right size to show off all of the detail he’d put into it. He’d checked everything. The composition, the lines, the colors. As far as he could tell, it was actually perfect.

The winners weren’t announced until the last week of school. They’d be sent off with a monetary prize and a nifty little ribbon for their work. If they allowed it, the school would hang their work in the hall as a show of school pride.

Merlin waited. Each day between the day he’d entered and the day the winner was announced was a horrible, gut churning experience.

When the winners were announced, Merlin was surprised.

First place had gone to Freya. Second place had gone to Morgana. He’d felt his insides shrivel and, yeah, those were arbitrary rules set up when the two of them had barely been teenagers, but Merlin had come very close to fulfilling the one requirement Arthur had set for him. It seemed silly. And to be honest, if Arthur even knew Merlin’s plan then Merlin was going to be very surprised. They weren’t even dating yet. But then he’d been announced as third place.

Everyone in the class applauded, except for one Arthur Pendragon. Merlin only looked at him and grinned. “Third one down.”

Arthur Pendragon, Knight of Camelot, hung in the school halls for an entire year.

Two Years Later

“So, Merlin, what’s the plan today?” It was hot. Ridiculously hot. Summer was in full swing and Arthur was taking the excuse to laze about the house. “If it involves going outside or moving, I’m out.”

“I dunno. I thought we could start planning our wedding. How’s a Christmas theme sound to you?” Merlin didn’t even look nervous. He was just casually flipping through his phone.

Arthur gaped at him. “Excuse me, what?”

“Well, I was thinking maybe a nice winter theme would work. Snow and some blue ribbons. Of course, you always were the kind to prefer red. So how about a red and gold theme?” Merlin nodded. “We can do something manly afterwards to soothe your fragile ego.”

“My what? Merlin, what are you talking about?”

“Well, you know, any time you get a bit emotional or do something pretty, you get all macho and so I figured—”

“No, Merlin, we aren’t getting married.”

“Yes we are.” Merlin grinned and put his phone down. He scooted forward until he and Arthur were nose to nose. “You said so when we were thirteen. You said ‘I’ll marry you if you completely slaughter me in three competitions in high school.’ And I did, so you have to pay up.”

“Merlin, don’t be ridiculous. You never slaughtered me. You barely won at football, and running doesn’t count.” Arthur turned his cheek. “I was suffering a bad leg.”

“Sure you were. I still beat you by half a lap.”

“Half a lap?” Arthur snorted. “No, I don’t think so. It was just a technicality.” Arthur frowned. “Besides, I don’t remember competing against you a third time.”

“The art competition? You entered it and you didn’t even place! I got third. That’s definitely a win!”

Merlin crossed his arms and pouted. He hadn’t been sure that his plan would work, but he hadn’t really expected it to not work. He and Arthur had been dating a whole year now and Merlin had been certain he wanted to marry him since that day in middle school.

Arthur shifted and struggled off the cushion. He chuckled a bit as he crossed the room and Merlin burned red. Of course Arthur would think it was a funny joke. He always thought it was funny when Merlin was embarrassed, the jackass.

“I didn’t place, yeah. I remember that now.” Arthur rummaged around in the closet. “I didn’t place because I entered this.”

Merlin ducked from the rolled up paper that Arthur threw at his head.

It was a bit yellowed and weathered and the paper was thin now. Merlin unrolled it, curiosity overcoming his need to pout.

It was just a really crude drawing of Arthur and Merlin, with the words “I’ll marry you, you idiot.” written across it.

“I could tell you were getting desperate to beat me at something.” Arthur laughed. “No one wants to play scrabble that badly.”

“You’re a real arse, you know that.”

Arthur grinned and pressed a kiss to his lips. Merlin let himself be dragged close and wrapped his arms around Arthur’s torso.

“That’s why you love me.”

Funny story of the day: for a while the rubber isolation thing on our oven has been broken for a while, so yesterday I finally sent in an error report about it, and on the website it said that it could take about 5-10 days, so I was expecting them to show up sometime next week. Well apparently not, as this guy called me less than 30 minutes ago and it basically went: “You had a problem with the oven isolation?” “Yeah.” “Alright I’ll be there in a moment.”

Thing is, the apartment looks like shit, because Fia and I are slobs with too many things in a too small apartment + I’m in my underwear. So we just kinda look at each other in fear, and then start running around the apartment and cleaning it at top speed.

The guy shows up like 10 minutes later and by then we’ve actually managed to make the place look pretty decent. And I mean we were planning on cleaning today anyway, so now theres less work to be done pff.

Fake It - Luke Hemmings [SMUT]

Requested by Anonymous

Summary~ Luke overhears a conversation that he wasn’t meant to which luckily leads to the night of your life.

Word Count - 702

“He’s really that bad?” your friend laughs sipping her almost empty glass of wine.

“I didn’t say that!” you exclaim.

“Well from the way you’re talking he’s not exactly sounding good,” she grins.

“I just said that since we’ve moved in together and started to have a lot of regular sex he’s getting a bit vanilla, that’s all,” you refill our glass. “Want some more?”

She shakes her head finishing her glass, “You should tell him, spice things up”

You shrug, “I mean what did I expect, that I’d be screaming his name every time we do it? I guess it loses it’s magic if it’s twice sometimes thrice a week”

Her eyes widen, “Wait so you sometimes…”

“Fake it?” you finish for her. “Oh yeah, but at least he’s getting something out of it”

Just then her phone buzzes.

“Ah, Adam is outside to pick me up, I’ll see you later,” you stand up to give her a hug and she adds, “Have a good night, or y’know, not”

Once she’s gone you take the two wine glasses through to the kitchen to wash them which is when you hear a noise from upstairs. You go to investigate and find Luke hanging out in your bedroom.

“How long have you been home?”  you ask.

“A while,” he answers standing and pulling off his shirt going to change.

“Is something wrong?” you ask but if you’re honest you know what is wrong.

He simply freezes and when he next moves he whirls himself round and takes your face in his hands and presses his lips to yours. It takes you by surprise, so much so that you stumble backwards until you’re sandwiched between him and the wall. One of his hands finds your waist and slips round to the small of your back, pulling your body to his. When you kiss back you feel him deepening the kiss and with the fact that you are pretty much grinding on each other you let a moan escape your lips.

Both his hands rest at your waist, squeezing lightly as his lips move down you your neck and his kisses right under your ear, “So you don’t like a little vanilla”

Your breath becomes shaky as his hands slide under your shirt and up and down your sides.

“Y-you heard that?” you stammer.

“Sure did, and babe you won’t be faking it tonight,” he lifts off your shirt and proceeds to kiss his way down the valley of your breasts lowering himself to his knees

You curl your toes as you feel his breath dangerously close to where you need him most. He slides your jeans down your legs and you clench your thighs together when his breath tickles your skin. He stands to look you in the eye as he teases you mercilessly with his thumb drawing figure eights. You rock your head back and he inserts a finger making you moan out his name.

“So wet baby,” he mutters bringing you dangerously close to your edge which is why you whine when he suddenly pulls his hand away.

He licks his fingers which makes you shudder as your knees start to give way. Without warning he picks you up and carries you over to the bed dropping you down. His lips worship your body as you whiper underneath him.

“Please, luke,” you manage to say.

“What do you want?” he asks. “Use your words”

“You I just want you,” you pant.

He pulls off his jeans and leaves a lingering kiss on your lips before easing himself in and eventually picking up a speedy pace. Keeping one hand to hold him up he lifts your legs to wrap around his waist so he can reach a new angle, hitting your g spot with every thrust.

“Luke, I’m close,” you practically scream.

“Hold on baby,” he whispers.

When you feel his thrusts get sloppy you clench around him and he chokes out a moan as you reach your highs.

Once you’ve regained your breath and he’s lying under the sheets next to you kissing your forehead he says, “Babe, if you ever want a little more all you have to do is ask”

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